Chapter 15: How Loki Met Him

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(This is not my chapter and the credit of the characters goes to their respective authors)

As both a god and a prince, Loki knew opulence. He lived in luxury every day: his bed sheets were made of the finest silk, the walls of his room set with gold and obsidian, and every day he ate food worth of (of course) a god. He was old friends with extravagance, long time companions with arrogance; a long time visitor to the world that was privilege.

And even then the man (god, really, but only in the faintest sense of the word) made his eyebrows rise.

He was a lithe man, dressed in a white sheet of clothe that was thrown over one shoulder and looked remarkably like a dress. A toga, he believed it was called. He had curly black hair, cropped close to his skull, and tanned skin that matched the bronze pin at his shoulder. He sat astride a winged white horse (a Pegasus was it?) with an elegant beige saddle with silver stitching. He wore leather sandals with little wings at the heel.

He was an Olympian messenger from Midgard, if both his appearance and the scroll that he had handed to Odin a moment ago were true. He had a distasteful look on his face as he eyed the feast that was going on around him. The Asgardians, being the rough and live-in-the-moment sort they were, were using their fingers and the occasional utensil and staring shamelessly at the stranger. He was regarding them with a fair amount of disgust and holier-than-thou attitude.

Hmm. Maybe it was living on a plane of existence alongside mortals that made the Olympians so arrogant towards other deities?

"So the godly summit has been set," Odin said, rolling the scroll up once more. "This occasion is being held at Olympus, is it not?"

"Yes," the messenger looked like he wanted to sniff condescendingly, but seemed to remember that the men before him were the royal family at the last moment. "According to the ancient agreements, this is the three month notice. The Bifrost shall be allowed passage onto the slopes of Olympus for exactly five minutes, three months from now. Once the gathering has been adjourned it shall be opened once more. You are allowed two other representatives aside from Lord Odin." The messenger listed the terms of the godly summit in a monotone; obviously they had been drilled into him extensively. The terms were no different than the last time he'd heard then. The godly summit – one hundred and seventy-five years ago – had been hosted by Asgard, and the Olympian Lord Zeus had brought his brother Poseidon of the Sea and the messenger god, Hermes. Loki had been more fond of the latter, though Poseidon had been amiable in comparison to Zeus. It had been a long while since Loki had gone to a godly summit hosted by Olympus – he'd been barely out of childhood then. Odin always took his wife Frigga and another of importance, usually the political advisor or the military commander. Thor had gone two summits ago and had come back with preposterous tales of Olympian half-gods and foreign liquor. Loki could only assume that this time Odin would take someone who's political prowess might smooth the ruffled feathers Thor had undoubtedly left behind. Again.

Odin set the scroll down beside his plat of wild boar and sipped his goblet speculatively. "I believe that this year I shall be taking my wife once more to accompany myself. As for the other..." His eyes turned to Loki; who felt a flash of surprise run through him. "I will be taking my son Loki."
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After that shocking declaration, the three months passed rather quickly. Loki was equipped with fine robes and given an overview of what to expect at the gatherings. He'd been given warnings by Frigga not to be overwhelmed by the Olympians (they had left him alone the last time he'd visited because of his youth) who were apparently far more rowdy and passionate than Asgardian in general.

"Think of a mountain full of Thors," Frigga had told him, "only with much different personalities and more cunning, for the Olympians oft meddle with the lives of mortals for sport."

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